


Unconventional Methods

by kitcaliber



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Female Reader, Nipple Clamps, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Reader-Insert, Vibrator, personal trainer Sigma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitcaliber/pseuds/kitcaliber
Summary: Siebren is a personal trainer whose ad you found online. Maybe he'll help motivate you to exercise more, through the unconventional methods he uses.
Relationships: Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 100





	Unconventional Methods

**Author's Note:**

> Story assumes reader is AFAB.

You look at yourself in the mirror, wearing nothing but your bra and underwear. You pinch at your stomach - you're getting kinda flabby. When was the last time you worked out? You sigh - you _hate_ working out, and you can never keep the motivation needed to do it more than once.

Then, it dawns on you - what if you found a personal trainer?

You head to the computer, not bothering to dress, and start browsing the ads section of a local fitness magazine. Most of them come across as pretty run-of-the-mill, making promises you know they probably can’t keep. _“Lose 10 pounds in 3 sessions!”_ Yeah, right.

You’re about to give up when one ad catches your eye. It didn’t make any outlandish promises, it simply stated that he would help you set realistic goals, then use “unconventional methods” in order to help you achieve them. The use of the phrase “unconventional methods” is really what caught your attention - you’ve always been pretty resistant to the usual methods, so why not give it a try?

Plus, the ad included a picture of the man, and it helped that he was pretty hot.

So you opened up a new email, copy-and-pasted the given address into the “to” line, and started to type your message.

_Hello,_

_I saw your ad in the Strength Gazette and wanted to inquire about your services - I’m quite intrigued by the “unconventional methods” you apparently employ. Would you mind detailing them for me?_

_I have to admit, I’m a fairly tough case. I don’t particularly like to exercise, but I don’t exactly enjoy being flabby either, so I need a trainer who will be able to work with me and motivate me to actually work out. Would you be willing to take me on?_

_Thanks in advance,_ _  
_ _(Y/N)_

Giving it a second read over, you nodded your head and clicked Send and started to browse social media.

Minutes later, a little _ping!_ sounded out. You had a new email.

_Dear (Y/N),_

_I am glad to hear you found my ad. What I cannot say in the ad, however, is that my “unconventional” methods are quite sexual in nature. I must ask that you keep this between us._

_I am more than willing to take you on. I do love a challenge :) Maybe after a session or two you’ll find you rather enjoy it!_

Most of the email detailed his pricing structure, which seemed pretty fair to you - and it was within your budget, which was important.

_If you don’t mind my unconventional methods, please write back with your current fitness goals._

_Respectfully,_ _  
_ _Siebren_

You clicked Reply and began to type a response...that is, until something in his message finally jumped out at you, and you did a double take.

Sexual in nature?

What the _hell_ did that mean?

You contemplated backing out, but he seemed like the only option - the rest of the ads all made the same stupid promises, and you didn’t even know if they’d take you on. Plus, well, you hadn’t seen a whole lot of “action” in recent times.

So you replied.

A few back-and-forth emails later, you had a meeting date set: one week from today, at his house.

The days ticked by fairly slowly; you were sure you’d have forgotten about it over time, but you hadn’t, and found yourself frequently wondering what in all hell he was going to do to you. You even caught yourself _fantasizing_ a couple of times.

Finally, the day arrived, and you put on your workout gear - sports bra, tank top, and gym shorts...very short gym shorts. To be fair, you didn’t know how hard you’d be working, and therefore how hard you’d be _sweating,_ so it was better to play it safe. You packed a backpack with a few essentials: a towel, a water bottle, and your wallet.

You drove yourself the few minutes to the other side of town, to the address he gave you in his last email. It was a pretty nice place - long driveway, big front yard, stately two-story house. He must make pretty good money, you thought.

Your heart started to pound in your chest as you approached the front door, reaching its peak when you rang the doorbell. Why were you so nervous?

The wait was agonizing. Doubts began to swirl through your head.

And then the door opened onto a smiling, very attractive older man who towered over you.

“Ah, you must be (Y/N). It’s so nice to finally meet you. Please, come in,” he said, a warm tone to his baritone voice, gesturing into the house.

You stepped inside and looked around. It was nicely decorated, paintings on the walls and such, but you did wonder if the ficus in the corner was real or not.

“Follow me,” he said, and your heart sped up again. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, but you followed him anyway, and he led you into a room repurposed into an office. He took his seat behind the desk, and gestured at the chair in front. You sat down as he tapped at his touchscreen monitor. “I don’t know about other personal trainers, but I like to take care of the business part before the workout, while we still have our wits about us,” he explained, his piercing periwinkle blue eyes meeting yours for a moment.

“Makes sense,” you said, fidgeting in your seat a bit. You probably wouldn’t want to sit and discuss payment methods after a 30-minute sweatfest.

“Did you want to pay now, or later?” He asked.

“Now, please,” you said, reaching into your backpack for your wallet.

“Alright, I’ll take your card.”

You handed over your credit card, and he slid it through a reader, conveniently placed near his monitor, before handing it back.

As you put your wallet away, he picked up a nearby tablet, tapping at its screen a few times before sliding it across the desk to rest in front of you. “This is a detailed invoice; please read it over before signing it. A copy will be sent to your email address.”

You read the invoice, nodding to yourself - everything seemed A-OK, so you signed on the line with your finger. You looked up at him, and suddenly his smile looked...mischievous.

“Thank you,” he said, tapping at the screen a couple more times before putting the tablet away. “Now, on to the main event. Stand up for me, please.”

A bit confused, you stood up. He followed suit, but walked around the desk and pulled the chair out from behind you.

Suddenly, his voice was right next to your ear, a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. “Drop your pants and bend over the desk.”

“What?” Your alarmed response was immediate.

“You heard me.”

You hesitated, biting your lip.

He ran a hand over your ass, and you gasped. “Mm, yes, I can work with this...but only if you work with me. Now, I won’t ask again.”

The phrases “unconventional methods” and “sexual in nature” sprang back into your mind. You decided to throw caution to the wind - you’ve just used your credit card to pay for sex, apparently, so why not simply go through with it? You hooked your thumbs around your waistband and pulled down, allowing your shorts and panties both to drop to the floor before bending over the desk, forearms on the clean surface.

“Good girl,” he purred, and you felt his hand rub over your ass again. “Spread your legs for me.”

You stepped your legs as far apart as the garments around your ankles would allow.

“Yes, _very_ good.”

You let out another gasp as fingers began to explore the spot between your legs, one finding your clit with ease, another probing at your entrance. “Hm, not wet enough yet…” He remarked, beginning to rub quick little circles on your clit, causing you to bite your lip and moan. “But by the sound of it, you should be in fairly short order.”

He was right - it wasn’t long before you could feel yourself getting wet. The finger at your entrance started to slide around on your sensitive skin. “Ah, yes. Perfect.”

And then...he stopped. You strained to hear what he was doing, and rather than hearing the sound of track pants falling to the floor like you expected, you heard light footsteps, followed by...a drawer opening? Some rummaging noises, and finally an “ah.”

There was a pause as footsteps approached you again. “Stay very still, (Y/N),” he warned you, and you felt something hard - like plastic - bump up against your entrance. It slid inside you with ease, and whatever it was, he pushed it all the way in until it rested against your cervix. His finger withdrew, and he began to speak again. “Testing in 3...2...1.”

The object came to life inside you, buzzing against your deepest parts, and you cried out - mostly in surprise, but in pleasure too. It was finally clear what he’d done: he’d inserted a wireless vibrator into you.

“Wonderful!” He exclaimed, then the buzzing sensation stopped. “Now, pull your pants back up, turn around to face me, and take your shirt off.”

You did as he said, pulling your panties and shorts back up and taking off your tank top.

“I didn’t make myself clear. The bra comes off too.”

“Oh.” You took off your sports bra, holding it in the same hand as your tank top.

He approached you and ran a thumb over one of your nipples. “Very nice. You have lovely breasts,” he commented, before raising his other hand, bringing it to your nipple.

“Ow!” You hissed as you felt a pinch on your nipple, a pinch that didn’t quite go away. You looked down - he’d clipped a clamp to it, attached to a chain.

“Does it hurt too much?” He asked, looking into your eyes. Well, at least he cared about how you felt.

“No…it’s just—”

“Good,” he interjected, bringing his hand over to your other nipple and clamping that one as well. He let go, and you felt the weight of the chain pulling gently on you. “Now, into the gym.”

“What? Really? Like this?” You asked, somewhat taken aback. How were you supposed to exercise with a vibrator in you and your nipples being pinched constantly?

“Well of course, like this. It’s for your own good, you know; it’s supposed to motivate you. Give it a shot, you might find you like it.”

Well, it was sort of motivating you - the sooner you got the workout over with, the sooner the clamps would come off and the vibrator would come out. “Alright,” you said with a sigh, grabbing your backpack and following him into the next room.

You retrieved your water bottle out of your backpack and dropped your things by the door as you entered. He headed over to one of the machines, a stationary bike, and powered it on. “We’ll start here. Fifteen minutes on this. You can do that, can’t you?” He looked at you and smiled.

“I think so,” you replied, getting onto the bike, placing your water bottle in the holder near the screen.

He adjusted some settings on the machine’s screen before turning to you. “Okay, (Y/N). Go at a comfortable pace. Time starts…” He paused, looking down at the watch on his wrist. “Now.”

You started to pedal - not exactly a comfortable task, what with your current situation, but it wasn’t unbearable, not at all. You watched the timer on the screen as the seconds ticked by. There wasn’t much else to do, and without music to listen to, it was getting dreadfully boring fairly quickly.

About three minutes in, the vibrator inside you whirred to life on a low setting. You whimpered automatically, and your grip on the handles tightened.

“Is something the matter?” He asked.

“N-No,” you replied, trying to relax yourself and concentrate on pedaling.

“Good. Keep going.” Two minutes later, an order came. “Faster.”

You picked up the pace, as did the vibrator. You let out an unintentional moan and bit your lip. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, and he looked quite pleased with himself.

“Faster than that. You can do it, come on.”

It was getting difficult to concentrate; your breasts were bouncing somewhat, and you could feel the weight of the chain pulling on the clamps, plus the vibrator inside you...all you wanted to do was lay down and cum.

But he had other ideas. “As fast as you can! Come on, (Y/N), push yourself!”

You obediently began to pedal at your maximum speed, or at least what felt like it, and the vibrator powered up as well. “A-haaa…!” You cried out, almost doubling over.

“Sit up straight.”

Muttering curses under your breath, you sat up as straight as you could. You were starting to breathe heavily, and it was getting difficult to pedal at this speed. “I-I’m gonna—”

“Okay, slow it down a bit,” he said, and the vibrator slowed down too.

You weren’t sure whether to be relieved or frustrated. You’d been getting close to cumming, but that pace had been quite difficult to keep up. You simply settled for watching the timer - six minutes left.

“For the last five minutes, go back to your beginning pace to cool down,” he instructed a minute later, and the vibrator turned down again.

You whined in frustration - you _really_ wanted to cum, but with the vibrator on low you would never.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as the fifteen minutes came to a close. “Was that too difficult for you?”

“No,” you answered. “But I’m tired, and I…”

“And you what?”

“I really wanna cum,” you squeaked out over the sound of the bike.

“I don’t think you’ve earned that quite yet,” he said. “We still have strength training to do.”

The vibrator shut off entirely, and you groaned.

“Come on, off the bike and come with me,” he instructed. You obeyed, getting off the bike with shaky, unsteady legs and following him across the room to an open spot near a rack of weights.

He went over to the rack and picked up the lightest weights, handing them to you. “Now, let’s begin.”

The vibrator whirred to life once more as he started to lead you through the exercises, squats and lunges and crunches and such - tasks made several times more difficult by the stimulation you were receiving.

After a particularly difficult set of push-ups, he looked at his watch. “And...rest.”

You rolled over onto your side with a deep sigh. Your skin was coated with a thin layer of sweat, and you were breathing heavily.

“Well done, (Y/N),” he said with a smile. “Are you ready for your reward?”

“Yes, yes _please,”_ you quickly answered, practically begging for this to be over.

“Very well,” he replied, his face taking on that familiar mischievous smile.

The vibrator’s strength rapidly increased to what felt like its maximum, and you cried out. You rolled onto your back and looked up at him - he was watching you expectantly, waiting for the big finale.

It didn’t take long for you to get close again. You were trembling in pleasure and anticipation. “I...I’m gonna cum…!”

He knelt down next to you and bent over you, noses almost touching. When he spoke, it was in a low, almost sultry growl. “Then cum, darling.”

The next thing you knew, the coil of energy that had formed within you practically exploded, and you yelled out your pleasure as the orgasm finally washed over you, leaving you writhing on the floor.

“O-Okay, okay, make it stop…” You pleaded, quickly approaching overstimulation.

Without a word, he turned off the vibrator, and you sighed in relief. Still smiling, he reached over and gently took the clamps off your nipples, drawing from you an “ow” or two, before rubbing your nipples lightly to help them recover from the ordeal.

Still silent, he moved downwards, next to your hips, and pulled your pants down. You had the feeling you knew what he was doing, so you spread your legs, and he reached between your legs for the string attached to the vibrator. He pulled on it, removing it from within you, and wrapped it in a cloth he pulled out of his pocket.

“I will clean that later,” he commented. “For now, how are you feeling?”

“Good,” you replied, still breathing heavily, though somewhat less so than before your climax.

“So, what’s the verdict? Will I be seeing you next week?”

You smiled up at him. “You bet.”

“Perhaps next time we’ll get into some more... _advanced_ techniques,” he said with a wink.

You instantly knew what he meant, and suddenly, exercise had never been more appealing.


End file.
